Knock
Knock
Knock
"Master Erasmus, it is time for breakfast with Master Vogelbaum, sir."
The butler, Oliver, spoke through the heavy oak door. Inside, Aldrich was sprawled across a lavish bed, tangled in silk sheets with Cerberus, Erebus, and Erasmus. The dogs were warm, breathing rhythmically against his chest.
Waking up feeling refreshed, Aldrich hugged the mattress. Luxury was addictive. He had spent years in the streets, but this estate was a different kind of world. He had already decided: this house would be his. He would make sure Vogelbaum left him as the sole heir, even if it meant "removing" the rest of the old man's family tree.
"One more hour, Oliver," Aldrich called out. He kept his voice resonant and gentle, pitching it perfectly for the man who had watched him "grow up" and stood in for the mother he never had.
"I'm afraid that is not possible, sir," Oliver replied. "You cannot miss breakfast. It will disrupt your nutritional program set up by Vought."
"Fine," Aldrich muttered, pushing the dogs off him. "Tell my father I'll be down shortly."
"I'm afraid I can't do that either, Master Erasmus," Oliver's voice carried a hint of a smile. "I know for a fact that if I leave this door, you will find a quiet corner in the garden and continue your slumber. I am staying right here until I hear your feet hit the floor."
Erasmus stared at the door. It was a strange sensation, being "cared for" by a human who actually thought he raised him.
"Is a meal really that important, Oliver?"
"Breakfast is the foundation of the day, sir. Especially for a young man in your... unique position. Now, up you get."
"You're very persistent," Aldrich said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet touched the cold, expensive rug. "I'm up, Oliver. You can stop haunting my door now."
"Of course, sir. As soon as you open the door and follow me for a bath."
"I'm not taking a bath," Aldrich snapped, his voice losing its gentle mask for a split second. "I already had one two days ago. You're scrubbing the skin off my bones."
"That's not even physically possible, especially for someone with your constitution, Master Erasmus," Oliver's voice remained calm, unmoved. "The Vought protocol is very specific about hygiene for their... projects. And your father was quite insistent. You spent yesterday in a dog cage with three German Shepherds. You smell like a kennel, sir. Now, open the door or I shall be forced to use the master key, and we both know how much you hate the lack of privacy."
"Fine," Erasmus muttered. He stood up, his golden hair messy and tangled. "But tell the chef I want that steak pizza today. If I have to endure a bath, I want a reward."
"I shall see what can be done, sir. Now, the door."
Erasmus pulled the door open. He looked at the old man in the tuxedo, measuring his pulse with enhanced hearing. It was steady. Peaceful. This human really did love the "son" Erasmus had invented for him.
This memory-altering ability really is his greatest gift. Thank you, Stan Edgar. I'll make sure to pay you back for this one day.
"Good morning, Oliver," Erasmus said as he stepped out of his room.
"morning Master Erasmus lets go"
Erasmus stepped out. "What? No 'we're late again because of your morning banter, Master Erasmus'?"
"No," Oliver replied, checking his pocket watch without missing a beat. "Because I arrived five minutes early and you only took four minutes with your banter. That means we are a full minute ahead of schedule. A new record, almost. You just need to put a shirt on and we will have a thirty-second world record."
Erasmus stared at him. The man's mind was so perfectly rewired that even his wit felt natural. It was fascinating to watch a human function so well on a web of lies.
"The man who will make me wear a shirt to cover this perfect body in its own house has yet to be born, Oliver," Erasmus said, striking a pose and flexing.
"Oh, we will see about that," Oliver said. He planted his feet on the expensive rug and started pushing against Erasmus's chest with everything he had. He didn't budge an inch. It was like pushing against the side of a mountain.
"What are you doing? You know this is futile," Erasmus said, his voice resonant and playful. "You can't move me. Stop, Oliver, you're going to hurt yourself. Okay, okay, I'm going."
"Good, you're not going through me, young man, without putting proper attire on," Oliver replied, his feet braced against the floor as he fruitlessly tried to budge the boy."
"Are you jealous?" Erasmus grinned, the golden hair catching the light. "I always knew you were jealous of my hair, you baldy. but even my body? How the mighty have fallen."
"What's taking you so long, Oliver?"
Vogelbaum's voice cut through the room. The truth was, he had arrived a while ago. He had been standing in the shadow of the doorway, watching the exchange, and it brought a genuine, aching relief to his old heart.
This is how John was supposed to be, he thought.
As he watched Oliver strain against the boy's chest, Vogelbaum didn't see a weapon. He saw that Erasmus wasn't taking the physical challenge as an insult or a threat to his person.
He wasn't lashing out or breaking the man's wrists for the audacity of touching him.
To Vogelbaum, this was the ultimate proof of compassion. A boy who was aware of his absolute power, but chose to be gentle, kind and caring..
"Master Vogelbaum," Oliver panted, finally giving up and smoothing his vest. "He refuses to dress for breakfast."
"Let him be, Oliver," Vogelbaum said, his voice thick with a warmth he hadn't felt in decades. "If I had a body like that at his age, I'd probably skip the pants too. Come, Erasmus. The steak pizza is getting cold."